Chapter
Nineteen

Another
Night in the Gay Mecca, Part Two

Ryoga
was anxious and excited at the same time. Hanging out with Ryan really
comforted him and he briefly forgot about the
Kerry-nonsense. He was now more worried about what he was wearing. And he
wanted to look really good for Ryan. To show Ryan that he was feeling better,
of course.

Unfortunately,
Squat & Gobble didn’t provide more than enough of a budget for Diesel,
or whatever classy things that metrosexual men wear. But
Ryoga knew that his good looks and swimmer’s bod allowed him to drop some brand points. So, he pulled
out a tight fitting black shirt and some tight blue jeans that wrapped nicely around
his strong hips and legs.

Finally,
the doorbell rang. Ryoga quickly tossed on some
cologne and took a deep breath. He opened his door and his jaw mentally
dropped. He was now standing inches away from Ryan, their pectorals almost
touching each other. Ryoga’s heart raced
faster. Ryan looked great in a white tank top, faded blue jeans

The
Sundance Saloon was a sea
of Stetsons and studs.
Ryoga could count as many as 50 cowboys gathered at the Sundance
Saloon on Barnveld Avenue, far from the
mecca, which was actually what Ryan wanted. Men of all shapes
and sizes, not just the lean and muscular, swung their partners on the dusty,
wooden floor to the tunes of Dolly Parton, Willie Nelson, and Alan Jackson.

Ryan
ordered two beers and handed one to Ryoga. It tasted
like carbonated bread. These Americans
are funny people, indeed, Ryoga thought.

The
cowboy smiled broadly. Ryoga felt like sneering. Ryoga noticed the blonde guy taking Ryan’s hand as he
guided him on stage.

Ryoga
quickly found out what a bartop dance meant. It was
like that movie Ranma used to rave about because of
all the hot American girls. Coyote something. But this
time, the dancers were all men. Very good looking men.
And Ryan found his place right in the center of the white tanktops
and tight blue Levi 501s as Kenny Chesney’s
tropic twang started to play.

Ryan
swung with a lanky brown haired guy with a red bandana in his tight pants, but Ryoga couldn’t help but stare at Ryan. Ryan’s perfect body moving perfectly on stage in rhythm.
He pulled out that megawatted smile that made Ryoga’s gaze move directly to the floor.

“You
want another beer?” a familiar voice chortled in the background. It was
Barry. He was wearing a straw hat and a black shirt which did nothing to hide
his belly and blue pants. Stephen was right by his side in a fit-forming black
tank-top.

“He’s
a mess and emotionally detached,” Barry growled. “Don’t fall
for him too quickly or you’ll get hurt. He’s got a lot of growin’ up to do.”

“I’ll
manage,” Ryoga sighed. “I kinda got over Kerry.”

Barry
rolled his eyes. “Humph,” Barry said. “Looks like you do
too.” Ryoga took another swig of beer.

On
the other side of town, somebody else was tasting vodka.

“You bastard!” Martin shouted at Kerry and then promptly tossed his
martini into Kerry’s face to the shock of everyone surrounding him,
including Tyler.

“I
left 12 messages,” Martin said, rolling with the punches. “12 MESSAGES! I thought we had a good
time and we were meant for each other.” Tyler
raised his eyebrows and nervously ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Who
is this crazy person?” Ranma asked nervously.

“I
don’t remember,” Kerry replied back.

“What
do you mean you don’t remember?” Ranma
snarled.

“That’s
right,” Martin said. “You said that you fucked far too many men to
remember their names, you STD-ridden manslut! And
I’m guessing this is the new trick who is gonna
be the next notch on your bedpost.”

“Um,
don’t mess with a scorned lover?” Tyler tried to help out. It didn’t
work.

“So,
I was going to be a one night stand?” Ranma
snapped at Kerry.

“I
have never said that!” Kerry shouted at Martin. He turned to Ranma and puffed his chest proudly. “If you got
lucky,” Kerry smiled back. This time his spell didn’t work and Ranma tossed his mojito at Kerry.

“I
think I can choose my own one night stands,” Ranma
replied, folding his arms.

Kerry
Kwok was drenched from the neck up in vodka and mojitos.
He even started smelling like a bad bartender concoction.

“Look,
you guys can just stay here being crazy and fuming and all that shit,”
Kerry replied. “I’m going to get cleaned up. I know when I’m
not wanted.”

He
stumbled off like a wounded wolf.

NOTES:

Well, we know what most of
the guys are doing. Where’s Devin? You’ll have to see part three
to find out.